


What's Round, Orange, and Has a Face?...Hamish Watson-Holmes.

by ConsultingWriter



Series: Home Fires [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby!Hamish, Dragon!Lock, Fluff, Halloween, Hamish Watson-Holmes - Freeform, M/M, Parent!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a Home Fires Halloween! Also, Hamish gets introduced to Molly. </p><p>
  <i>“John,” Sherlock drew out slowly “Why have you dressed our son as a gourd? And why does it have a face?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Okay, one: it’s a Jack-O-Lantern, and two: it’s his costume, tonight’s Halloween.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Round, Orange, and Has a Face?...Hamish Watson-Holmes.

**Author's Note:**

> Is that a dumb title? I feel likes it's a dumb title....Anyway, I'm posting it now because it might not be the 31st were I'm at yet, but it is somewhere in the world.
> 
> P.S. I'm going to be participating in NaNoWriMo, so you probably won't see me until December. Wish me luck!
> 
> P.P.S. This is actually the second attempt at a Halloween fic. I might post the original (which is similar in some spots to this one) on tumblr, so if anyone wants to read it, let me know and I'll put it up on NoSwordsForLittleDragons.tumblr.com

Hamish babbled happily as John tried to hail a cab. It was Halloween and John knew that Sherlock had forgotten and would stay in the lab at Bart’s all evening unless they went and fetched him.

John sighed in relief when a cab finally pulled up to the curb and slid himself and Hamish into the back seat. Quickly giving the cabbie the address, he settled back and readjusted his babe’s toboggan. The curly blonde locks—a feature that John was quite proud of, as almost every other feature Hamish had seemed to come from Sherlock—weren’t long enough to hide the dark little horns poking out of the baby’s hairline.

When he looked back up, he saw the cabbie shooting a still ‘talking’ Hamish annoyed glances in the review mirror and responded with a harsh glare of his own. A tiny curl of satisfaction unfurled in his belly when the driver paled and refocused on the road.

As the cab pulled up outside of St. Bart’s, John handed the cabbie exact change and not a cent more, he wouldn’t be getting any sort of tip from John, not with the ugly looks he’d given Hamish.

Sherlock was hunched over a microscope when John walked in and Molly was nowhere to be found—which was probably a good thing, since no one outside of Mycroft and Ms. Hudson actually knew that they had Hamish.

John cleared his throat and gave his husband a cheerful smile when he pulled away from his work.

The doctor held back a chuckle as grey eyes widened “John,” Sherlock drew out slowly “Why have you dressed our son as a gourd? And why does it have a face?”

“Okay, one: it’s a Jack-O-Lantern, and two: it’s his costume, tonight’s Halloween,” he explained slowly, as if Sherlock were a child right along with Hamish, he held up Hamish’s round, orange, plastic Jack-o-Lantern candy bucket to highlight his point.

“Halloween,” Sherlock sniffed in disdain “What a dull tradition, I don’t understand why you’re putting Hamish and I through the suffering of participating in it.”

“That’s a shame,” John responded lightly “because you’re going whether you understand the concept of getting free candy or not.”

“Besides,” he continued, ignoring the detective’s opening mouth “He looks adorable in his little pumpkin costume.”

Sherlock frowned “He’s not going to remember this early into his childhood anyway, why can’t we just wait until he’s older?”

John shot the other man a look “I don’t care if he won’t remember, we will. Also, I’ll take plenty of pictures so that he’ll be able to look back at them one day, or I can bring them out when he brings a potential partner over. That’s what baby pictures are really about anyway, embarrassing children when they bring their significant others over.”

The frown deepened “Partner? He’ll not be old enough for dating for a long time yet, John. I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself.”

John chuckled and smiled softly at his husband “He’ll be old enough sooner than you think love.”

The frown on the genius’s face deepened as he turned his eyes to the babe, who was happily talking to the stuffed cow that was clutched tightly in his small hands. 

“Okay,” he said after a beat “I’ll go ‘trick-or-treating’ with him tonight,” it wouldn’t do to miss his drakeling’s younger years just because he didn’t understand some of the mundane things John forced them to do. 

John smiled and moved around the counter to plant a soft kiss on the dragon’s cheek.

“How much longer do you have here?”

Sherlock tilted his head up and John could almost see the mental calculations taking place.

“An hour,” the detective decided “at most.”

John nodded and moved to settle himself and Hamish in another chair at a cleared space.

Looking a Hamish’s costume the blonde smiled, he thought he (with Ms. Hudson’s patient tutelage) had done a fine job sewing it. The costume was a Jack-O-Lantern that was rounded in the middle—fluffed up by cotton— and was more pumpkin-shaped than anything he had been able to find in the stores. The soft orange fleet ran down the babe’s legs and encased his feet like footie pajamas would as well as being long-sleeved to help keep him warm. An orange beanie with a brown stem and curling green tendrils fitted snuggly on curly blonde locks completed the outfit.

John’s own usually bland jumpers had been switched out for a dark purple number that had bats encircling the bottom and the hems of the sleeves.

 His grin widened as it reminded of his and Hamish’s adventures into carving out their own pumpkin the week before.

He remembered the excited squeals Hamish had let out as he’d slapped the orange gourd with tiny open palms a few times, listening to the hollowed ‘ _thunking_ ’ sound that the vegetable had emitted. If John had to hazard a guess, however, he would say that Hamish’s favorite part had been pulling the squishy orange innards out. The babe had pulled his hands out from the inside with a pleased giggle, and had then tried to shove tiny fist-fulls of seeds and pumpkin ‘guts’ (as his mother used to call it) into his mouth.  

John had stopped him but quickly picked the seeds out and let him proceed when the babe had started to sniffle, eyes going teary. The doctor couldn’t remember a time he’d laughed harder than when Sherlock had come into the flat seconds later to see the babe with pumpkin insides smeared across his face and dangling from his mouth.

The dragon had gasped before swiftly moving to try and force the child’s mouth open to pull the pumpkin brain out. The detective then proceeded to spin on his heel, shot John a look that would’ve killed a lesser man, and snarled at him angrily, asking him why he’d let their son put something like that in his mouth in the first place, and was he too stupid to know that some things weren’t food?

John had laughed until he felt tears streaming down his face and explained between gasps that it was okay to eat the innards, they just didn’t taste very well; which was something that Hamish needed to find out for himself.

Now the pumpkin sat proudly on the counter, a picture of a bee merrily carved on its front.

A deep chuckle bubbled up in his chest at the memory and it almost burst forth, only to die in the shock of Molly pushing the lab door open.

John had always felt bad for Molly, her crush on Sherlock was blatantly obvious to everyone except the man himself and John didn’t know if that made it better or worse that Sherlock so easily flirted and used her to get her to fetch him coffee or to let him take body parts home with him.

Molly froze when she saw John and Hamish sitting in the lab. Even if she didn’t know that he and Sherlock were married, it was obvious to anyone that looked that Hamish was Sherlock’s biological son (well, he was John’s too, but that wasn’t technically possibly for human’s so he’d let it go this one time).

“Oh, Sherlock,” Molly said, and it was clear to John that she was trying to hide the tremble in her voice “I didn’t know you had a son.”

“Hmm?” Sherlock asked, distracted by whatever he was looking at through the lenses “Ah, yes,” he said after John cleared his throat pointedly “John wanted to be a father, so I got him one.”

John rolled his eyes at that; it would sound to a normal person like Sherlock had no interest in his own child.

“O-oh, John?” She was clearly confused as to what he had to do with Sherlock having a child.

“Yes, that’s what married couples do, isn’t it? Have children?”

John pursed his lips at Sherlock’s flippant answer. He was doing it on purpose, John just knew it. The detective was trying to shake poor Molly up. Suddenly John wondered if Sherlock truly didn’t know about Molly’s crush, or if he’d known all along and was using this chance to permanently kill the romantic notions Molly had continued to harbor even after Sherlock’s fall and  return.

“So, John,” Sherlock said briskly, changing the subject “I believe we’re meant to be getting ready for…’trick-or-treating’ I believe it’s called.”

“Trick-treat, trick-treat, trick-treat!” Hamish shocks them all by beginning to chant, bouncing excitedly on John’s lap, arms flailing about; John caught his hands with a laugh when a stuffed cow filled fist almost wacked him in the face.

“Yes, love, trick-or-treat,” John said fondly, gently patting a hat covered head.

“Go, go, go, go, go!” the babe demanded, beating lightly at his candy bucket.

That babe’s antics caused Sherlock to chuckle, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated through the room and through John’s bones down to his very core.

“Hush, Hamish, we’ll go in just a minute, let me finish up.”

“Candy!” The hatchling squawked, pouting at his father.

Molly cleared her throat softly “I um-I have a bit of Halloween candy in a bowl in my office, if he’d like to come get a few pieces.”

John smiled softly at the flustered pathologist, “That would be lovely Molly, and thank you, I’m sure this isn’t what you expected to have to deal with when you came in today.”

He was apologizing more for Sherlock’s behavior then Hamish’s, but he was going to let Molly take it anyway she pleased.

She blushed and fidgeted with the hem of her lab coat sleeve “It’s fine, really, if you’d follow me we can run down to my office and be back in a split.

“Well then, Hamish, shall we go?” the doctor asked his son, tilting his head towards Molly.

“Go!” Hamish squealed, clapping his hands.

John huffed out a laugh and even Molly grinned at the boy’s adorable antics.

With a quick wink at Sherlock John slid Hamish to the floor and grab his hand, helping him toddle after Molly.

With a small candy bar in his bucket, Hamish turned to the pathologist and gave her a smile “Thank you!” and with that, he toddled to the door, clearly ready to leave.

John shot smile and waved goodbye as he followed his son out quickly, no use staying any longer and making things awkward for either of them.

Sherlock was standing in front of the lab doors wrapping his scarf around his neck, “Ah, Snickers? Good choice, Hamish.”

John rolled his eyes, he wasn’t even going to ask how Sherlock knew that “Well, then, shall we go?”

“Go!” Hamish crowed, wrapping his arms around his Papa’s legs, bouncing on his feet excitedly, “Go Papa, go!”

Sherlock chuckled and swooped down, hefting his hatchling into his arms “Of course, we’ll go.”

John stopped before they hit the street and pulled something from his pocket “Oh, before I forget, here,” he said, handing Sherlock a few packs of glow sticks. Sherlock stared at the packages for a beat before giving John a quizzical look.

“They’re glow sticks, you bend them until you hear a slight crack and then shake them and then they glow.”

“So why did you give them to me?” Sherlock asked with a slight glare, he could read the package; obviously they were ‘glow sticks’.

“To wear,” John’s own ‘obviously, genius’ was left unsaid “You’re the only one not dressed up, so you get to wear the glow sticks, congratulations,” he deadpanned, thrusting the packs at him again.

The detective huffed but conceded and took the plastic-y packages from his mate. The first one showed a thick cylinder on a black chord—meant to be worn as a necklace, Sherlock deduced as he tore it open and followed John’s earlier instructions on how to get it to glow (it was a bit fascinating, if he was honest with himself) and it began to radiate a bright blue. He repeated the process with the next two packages that contained two bracelets each: one package was green and the other was orange.

“Now you look ready for trick-or-treating,” John chucked and lifted himself to his tip-toes and planted a soft kiss on the detective’s high cheeks, a small ‘thank you’ smile pulling at the edges of his lips.  With one last touch to Sherlock’s chest—right over his heart—John pulled away before thinking of something else. He smiled impishly, leaned back up, and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s ear.

“I forgot to mention,” he murmured slowly, lips brushing against the shell of Sherlock’s ear with every word “the ‘sexy nurse’ costume I picked up for myself when I was out looking for a decent costume for Hamish.”

He could hear Sherlock’s breath hitch and held back a chuckle “Maybe if you behave I’ll give you a checkup after we put Hamish to bed tonight.”

With that said, he pulled away from his husband, for good this time, and tossed a wink over his shoulder as he turned away.

Stepping onto the street, John smiled at all the children and parents that were already making their way up and down the streets; small torches and glow sticks hanging from their hands as they moved across the streets and going door to door.

As Hamish chanted out a happy ‘go, go, go, go, go’ and waved his bucket about, Sherlock slipped an arm around John’s hips and pulled him in closer. With a soft smile John lead his boys out into the night, his babe was adorably dressed, and terribly excited and Sherlock was smiling softly, one hand holding John close and the other held Hamish to his chest as the babe stared in awe at all the bat and ghost decorations and fantastical costumes; The soft smile widened, he knew Halloween was a good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to review! And send me some good karma for NaNo, yeah?


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